


Tumblr Kiss Prompts

by annabeth



Series: Drabbles [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Homophobic Behavior, Homophobic Language, Jjbek, Kisses, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Breakup, Pliroy, Post-Canon, Vikturio, otayuri - Freeform, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: A collection of drabbles based on thiskiss prompt list.





	1. Pliroy kiss #71

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles will be the prompt, unless it's too long (like this one is). Rating is liable to change.
> 
> This is for anon.
> 
> Come prompt me with kisses [here](http://helm-puppet-trash.tumblr.com/post/168209736232/prompt-list)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss prompt #71 Pliroy (A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss)

They were kissing. It had felt like—no, JJ thought, it had never happened. He had been so certain it would never happen.

Now, soft lips were on his, gentle and undemanding, so unlike the fiery, showstopper Yuri Plisetsky. Could he be feeling it too? JJ cupped the back of Yuri's neck, stroking it with his thumb as he lifted his face to stare down into shocked but somehow vague green eyes. Yuri was just staring at him—as if he'd never seen him before.

"I love you," JJ whispered. It felt critical that Yuri know this, even if Yuri walloped him across the face in the next ten seconds. "I've loved you for years."

But Yuri did something he did not expect: he surged upward—he'd gotten taller, but JJ still had a few inches on him—and threw himself into it this time, much in the way Yuri Plisetsky did everything, crashing their lips together, making JJ's mouth feel bruised, making JJ feel bruised all the way down to his soul.

Yuri kissed like a wild animal. JJ hadn't been prepared for that. Yuri bit and licked and sucked and barely gave JJ a chance to reciprocate. He took and took and he swallowed JJ's moans and JJ's gasps and he licked at JJ's tongue until JJ thought he was going to splinter apart.

JJ tried to hang on, to keep up, as Yuri abused his mouth. This kiss was so… primal, wanting, desperate. But it hung on something, hinged on words JJ needed to hear.

He tried to gentle Yuri; their teeth kept clicking together from the sheer force of Yuri's enthusiasm. He tried, oh, he tried, but part of him _liked_ it, the fierce possession of it all, the fierce joy it ignited in JJ's heart.

Finally though… JJ pushed Yuri down with his hands on Yuri's shoulders, separating them. His mouth felt like it was going to ache for days.

"Yuri?"

"Yes, all right," Yuri snapped. "I love you too, idiot. Now can we get back to… other things?"

JJ smiled. He reached to pet that glittering hair, and Yuri ducked out of reach, down to his knees.

"Yuri?" JJ repeated, in slight confusion.

"I can think of better places to kiss," Yuri said, and JJ's brain gave up; it felt whipped by a harsh wind. _Oh_.


	2. JJBek - Kiss in a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by [Phayte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/pseuds/Phayte).
> 
> Come send me kiss prompts [here](http://helm-puppet-trash.tumblr.com/post/168209736232/prompt-list)!

In his dreams JJ can do anything. His jumps are flawless, effortless, and when he launches into them, he can fly!

He also wins all the gold medals. He smokes cigarettes and his parents don't mind. He goes to clubs where Otabek is DJ'ing and he dances— _dirty_.

But his favorite dream is this one: where he tilts Otabek's chin up, feeling the slight rasp of stubble as he gently, carefully, slots his mouth over the one of his sixteen-year-old self's best friend.

Maybe they're not friends anymore; maybe he asked Otabek to dinner and got only a venomous look in return. Maybe it was because he was standing there with Izzy… but not now. Now, Otabek is closing his eyes, those dark chocolatey eyes, and his mouth is moving willingly beneath JJ's, and JJ keeps the press and hold, keeps it chaste and gentle, but he's growing more impatient, wanting _more_.

So he parts his lips and licks Otabek's soft, full lower lip, and Otabek parts his mouth too, and his breath is sweet, like cherry liqueur, and his tongue is so unbelievably _soft_ , yet firm where it darts into JJ's mouth and Otabek is tasting him, too, his tongue sweeping his cheeks, and JJ realizes he's never dreamt this far—never known what to do beyond that point of opening his mouth.

He's never French-kissed anyone, not even Izzy, _especially_ not Izzy, and this is beyond his experience, so he's kinda gaping and letting Otabek do as he likes. This is the best dream yet: he can feel that stubble abrading his chin and mouth. He can feel that strange dichotomy between the softness of his lips and the sharp scratch of his five-o'clock shadow.

JJ moans a little, and that wakes him up. He's—he's still being kissed by Otabek, actually. His moan is loud in the small space of the DJ booth, where Beks has apparently pre-programmed part of his set and now he's—shit (sorry, Father Dubois)—he's being kissed senseless.

This is not the kiss of his dreams. This is _better_. This is the kiss that he never had the temerity to dream of. He closes his eyes again, and lets Otabek take him on a ride.


	3. Yuri/Mila - First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by dreamilydelicatesublime on Tumblr.
> 
> Come send me [kiss prompts](http://helm-puppet-trash.tumblr.com/post/168209736232/prompt-list)!

"Are you sure about this? You did say you weren't interested after… how did you put it, that hockey player dumped me?" Mila is smiling, just a little, a smirk really. Yuri scowls.

"I asked, didn't I? Hag." He sticks out his tongue at her, then prepares to run for it if she decides to use him to do a lift again. But she cocks her head.

"You're gonna want to use your tongue for other things," she says. "All right, Yuri, come here."

Fuck, he's gonna be over her head in a minute.

"Pinky promise you're just gonna show me what to do, like I asked," Yuri says. He sounds more unsure of himself than he wants to.

"Just _come here_ , Yuri, Jesus."

He steps into her space, and she very gently frames his face with her hands. Then she lowers her head.

Fuck, but her lips are like satin, gently pressed to his. Her hands tighten slightly on his face, and Yuri realizes he's got his own buried in her red hair. He never really wanted to kiss girls before, and he would never tell her how much he relies on her friendship, but he just turned fifteen and he's never been kissed.

Until now.

It's over too fast, Mila pulling away, Yuri's lips tingling from the softness of the pressure.

"Is that how girls fucking kiss?" he scoffs. "I bet kissing a bo—"

"Shut up, Yuri," Mila says, sounding amused. "You're just a kid. That's the best you get for now."

Oh, it's _on_. He's gonna browbeat her into kissing him _better_ , next time, dammit.


	4. #41 Emil/Michele Forbidden kiss

It was twelve minutes to midnight. Emil was at the same party as Michele and Sara, because why not? But his good cheer was waning. He'd been trying to get their attention on him forever.

Well, specifically Michele. Emil forced his usual grin, waving at them. But Michele just glowered at him and pulled Sara away when it looked like she might push through the New Year's Eve crowd to catch up with him.

Well, that wouldn't do. Emil gave another grin to Chris, and to Yuuri—he handed them out like candy, and usually he didn't mind, but today what usually felt like an inexhaustible supply felt stretched and limited—and dug deep for his good humor.

It took a lot to dismay Emil, or dampen his general enthusiasm, but Michele had a knack for it. Here they were, at a party sponsored by the ISU, cameras everywhere, and—fuck!

Michele had given him the slip! Emil shrugged at some comment directed at him, then shoved somebody in his haste. They stumbled—Yuri Plisetsky looked like he might murder him, till Otabek steadied him and helped him with his drink—and then, oh, there!

It was now five minutes to midnight. Emil was going to run out of time but—he grabbed Michele's arm. Michele swerved, turned, and his violet eyes grew angry.

"For the last time, Emil! My sister is not for sale!"

Sara rolled her eyes.

"Ignore him, he's drunk," she said, a pretty smile on her features, which matched Michele's exactly, only more feminine. Emil grinned; this one didn't feel forced. Progress! He twisted Michele towards him.

Two minutes.

"I don't want your sister," Emil said, slowly and deliberately, because talking to Michele when he was sober was hard enough. "And I—"

The ball dropped, and people cheered, and Emil gave up. He grabbed Michele's face and pulled him into a New Year's Day kiss.

When the cameras flashed, Emil remembered what a scandal it would be for him to kiss Michele in public. Oops.


	5. JJBek, accidentally witnessed kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobic language, behavior
> 
> written for [ShadesofHades](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades)

Alain was mowing the lawn. He had tried to find Jean-Jacques to ask him to do it, but his son was nowhere to be found—until now. Alain had turned a corner and found Jean-Jacques behind the shed, standing next to the kid they were billeting from Kazakhstan, Otabek Altin.

He didn't always like the Kazakh kid, but he tried to keep it to himself; the problem was, Otabek had a very direct, dark stare, and when it fell on you, you felt stripped of all your defences.

Besides which, he watched Jean-Jacques all the time. His son was high-strung, and he was liable to get excited and do who-knew-what. Keeping his focus on skating was the best thing a devoted father could do, he reasoned.

But now, as he watched them _together_ , he thought he caught a flicker of something… something _wrong_. The lawnmower was loud, so when he called out Jean-Jacques's name, his son didn't hear him, and then, before he could even turn it off, Jean-Jacques tipped Otabek's head up with a finger beneath his chin.

What were they doing? Alain was going to put a stop to it as soon as he got down off the ride-on mower and—

Jean-Jacques kissed Otabek. Alain paused, frozen in horror. His son was a queer? But he was a good Catholic boy! No, he thought as he watched Otabek melt into the kiss, watched it become heated, this was that blasted teenager's doing. Fifteen years old and leading his son astray.

He got down from the mower, but he couldn't keep himself from staring in absolute riveted distress as Jean-Jacques's hand swept down Otabek's back, cupping his ass and pulling him up snugly against his groin. The kiss went on and on, the two boys sucking face, and that was all of about _it_.

Alain didn't bother to break it up; he didn't need to right now. He marched into the house and called somebody. Then he told his wife.

Otabek Altin was going to be on a plane home by this time tomorrow, and then Jean-Jacques was going to be sent someplace to… cure him.

He was supposed to be a good Catholic, and Catholic boys didn't kiss other boys, so obviously he had been too tempted by the Devil in the disguise of a teenage boy.

When they came in for dinner, both of them flushed and sweating, it was all Alain could do to keep his voice level when he said,

"Your mother wants you home, Otabek."

The boys exchanged a look, and Jean-Jacques opened his mouth.

"No arguments," Alain said, and then he said grace before they ate. All throughout dinner he caught the boys stealing glances at each other.

Late that night, he told his wife what he thought about all this. Nathalie sighed.

"I see what you mean, Alain," she said. "I know someone at Tru Directions. We'll get this sorted out."

Alain fell asleep spooned up next to her, her arms wrapped around his middle, comforted by the thought of his son being returned to them, straight.

And when, six months later, Jean-Jacques asked to go steady with Isabella Yang, it was all Alain could do not to throw a giant celebration.


	6. Otayuri - awkward teenage crush kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Phayte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/phayte)'s prompt.

Whenever Otabek envisioned this meeting, he'd pictured himself, in his leather jacket, with shades, cool as could be. Or at least trying, because of how much he admired Yuri Plisetsky. He had tried on a thousand different scenarios for kissing Yuri: soft, or quick, or lingering; he had always had experience, and Yuri would be excited and maybe a little anxious but—

Turns out the truth is very different. Yuri Plisetsky has no bashful bone in his body. He's flint and tinder, about to burst into flame at any second, and when they meet, the soldier's eyes are still there, but there's anger now. So much anger, as if fused to his very bones.

So when Otabek leans down those bare two inches separating them, he's still half-expecting Yuri to be… well, a fifteen-year-old with limited experience. That's not the way it works; not at all. Otabek has kissed his fair share of people, though he's often imagined them with blond hair and green eyes.

"Beka," Yuri breathes, and surges into it. Yuri is all confidence and wanton ability; he kisses like fire, too, and Otabek is too close to the flame. He's being burned and he—he _likes_ it.

But he doesn't know where to put his hands—will Yuri punch him if he leans them on the swell of his ass? Will he yank away in disgust if he runs one finger down the side of that alabaster cheek?

He doesn't know what to do with his tongue; Yuri seems content to kiss with their mouths slightly open at first, and even when Yuri dares to stick his tongue in Otabek's mouth, Otabek is still trying to keep from clacking their teeth together or bumping into Yuri's nose. Like he's forgotten how to do this thing he's done a hundred times.

It's like wanting Yuri for so long, having that terrible, stupid, _secret_ crush, has led to Otabek losing all his chill. He doesn't remember how to kiss anymore. He's just hanging on for dear life as Yuri teaches him all over again, and it's like his _very first kiss_ all over again, as he closes his eyes and breathes in the soft, airy scent of Yuri Plisetsky; as he is taught to kiss by the one person he's spent the last couple years wishing he was kissing. This is like learning to ride his bike. He's fallen, and he knows he's injured, but he can't bring himself to get up, or let go. Even if the injury is fatal, he's perfectly content to die at the touch of Yuri Plisetsky's lips.

Otabek is no longer the one of them with the experience, the one with the chill. No, he has no chill where Yuri is concerned, and he breathes, fast, as Yuri leans up against him, pressing their bodies together. Otabek groans and breaks the kiss.

"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" he asks, staring into green eyes that are sparkling, mischievous.

"You taught me," Yuri shrugs, and grabs Otabek's hand. "Take me for another ride." But the coquettish look he gives Otabek suggests maybe he doesn't just mean on his bike.

Otabek has a feeling he's going to learn a _lot_ of new things at the hands of Yuri Plisetsky.


	7. Vikturio - public kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Icicle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/icicle), who, guess what, GETS A HAPPY ENDING THIS TIME. I win, lovely! <3

"I'm not going anywhere till you tell them." Yuri is adamant, staring Viktor down. This is not the place—with the very public break up of his marriage, and the fact that Yuuri Katsuki didn't compete in the Grand Prix Final this year because he couldn't be around his coach anymore, Yuri does know it's asking a lot of Viktor.

But he turned eighteen this year. Viktor's marriage started falling apart barely after it started, and Yuri knows Viktor's little visits to Yuri's hotel rooms weren't helpful in that regard, but he doesn't feel guilty. Mostly he just feels exhausted from all of the sneaking around.

"You were a horrible husband," Yuri says. "You never wanted to give me up, but, Vitya, I'm sick of being your dirty little secret. First your side piece, and now you won't even acknowledge me!"

Viktor is turning away, obviously tired of this argument, never mind at the kiss and cry where he's now _Yuri's_ coach. People are already making Instagram posts and tweets about how Viktor changed sides, coaching the "other Yuri," and Yuri knows that Viktor's stupid overly sensitive heart aches over it.

But that's Viktor's problem, not his. Viktor gets excited about things, and drowns himself in them, but the one constant in Viktor's life the last four years has been his sexual relationship with Yuri. Yuri would feel proud of that, except Viktor has _never_ been willing to own up to it.

He grabs Viktor's sleeve, wrinkling the Armani of his suit.

"Dammit, Viktor! I'm old enough now, everywhere. You can't keep doing this to me."

Viktor stands up.

"It's time for us to leave the kiss and cry," Viktor says, voice uninflected. He's dry and monotone and Yuri is so goddamn angry.

"I _will_ leave you," Yuri threatens. "I'd like to see you muddle through life without me." He knows Viktor can't. There was one month, just one fucking month, where Viktor refused to take Yuri's calls late at night because he was "so in love, never felt like this before, he's taught me so much about the two 'l' words," even though _Yuri_ taught Viktor about life, and love, and he _didn't even fucking realize it_.

And then Viktor was groveling at Yuri's feet, twenty-nine days later, begging to suck him off and for Yuri to give him his cock again. He couldn't make it without Yuri, the pig notwithstanding.

Viktor's face begins to crumple now.

"You don't mean that," Viktor says, his earlier attempt to leave the kiss and cry forgotten. "Yura, please."

"Make it official, Viktor, or I'm gone," Yuri says. "I will find a new coach. I bet JJ's parents would love a star skater like me."

"You _hate_ JJ!" Viktor cries. The music is coming to an end for the skater after Yuri. The cameras are winking to life on the kiss and cry, even though Viktor's right and they should have cleared out by now.

"I tolerate him," Yuri says. He stands up. "Choose, Viktor. Me, or being alone the rest of your life."

Viktor suddenly grabs Yuri by the biceps, but rather than shaking him, like Yuri is expecting, he yanks him in tight and closes his mouth over Yuri's. Just before he gets lost in the familiarity of the kiss, with the same fire and fervor their kisses have always had, he hears shutters clicking and people shouting.

Yuri closes his eyes and sinks into Viktor, melting against him. When Viktor finally lets him go, he's more breathless than he was when he finished his free program.

It's appropriate, he thinks as the shouts turn to cheers, that Viktor would make it official with a kiss at the kiss and cry. And fuck, but Yuri _is_ crying.

"I love you, all right? I've loved you for as long as… shit, I don't even know. Forgive me, Yura?"

Viktor's crying too.

"I love you more," Yuri says, his voice choked. He hates this part; feeling like his gooey center is on view for everyone. What will people think of the Russian Punk now? But Viktor kisses him again, and again, and then down his jaw and neck and finally just buries his face against the crook of his neck and shoulder and breathes, his own shoulders shaking.

"Marry me," Yuri says, impulsively. "I know you can be faithful, Vitya, if it's to me."

Viktor huffs against his shoulder, tears soaking into his costume.

"Yes, okay, I'll try it," Viktor whispers.

Later, the tabloids proclaim: _Forbidden Kiss in the Kiss and Cry!_

But Yuri's Instagram has a stolen media photo of the kiss and it says:

**He said yes.**


	8. JJBek - stumbling over things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JJBek (Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/Onto The Bed)
> 
> Prompt from anon on Tumblr. Come find me on [Tumblr](http://helm-puppet-trash.tumblr.com)!

The first time Otabek kisses JJ, it's like an explosion goes off in his brain. He wasn't expecting it, but he should have been; maybe he's just too naive, but he saw those looks Otabek Altin gave him and didn't lend much credence to them.

Because Otabek was another boy. Now, though, they're standing in the doorway of JJ's room in Montreal, and Otabek's mouth is on his, and he's reeling like he just landed a jump wrong. His mind is broken into halves: the part of him that's getting hard from this kiss, and the part of him saying Hail Marys and praying wordlessly, desperately, to God to be forgiven.

Otabek's tongue is in JJ's mouth. His hands are running up and down JJ's back. His pelvis is grinding up against JJ's, and before JJ realizes it, he's grabbing at any part of Otabek that he can reach, and they're moving, stumbling towards JJ's bed; he cracks his shin on the bookcase and Otabek breaks the kiss momentarily to curse when he trips on something, but then his mouth is back on JJ's, and JJ doesn't even know what they're doing; his tongue is stroking along Otabek's and his back rams against the wall.

JJ firmly rubs his hands down Otabek's back, yanking a handful of each ass cheek as best he can—God, they're like iron hard, not an ounce of fat—and he flips them around, backing up again, their mouths working furiously against each other.

Otabek's mouth is wet and slippery and swollen and he's breathing hard against JJ every time their lips part for even a second; then JJ steps backward one more time and his knees hit the edge of his bed; he sits down heavily, deliberately, and pulls Otabek down onto his lap, Otabek's calves pressed to JJ's thighs as his ass settles decisively over JJ's groin, and then he very deliberately rocks against JJ, and JJ's hard on is unbearably stimulated as they continue to kiss.

JJ's lips are almost abraded when they separate long enough to stare at each other, eyes just intensely focused on eyes, and then Otabek takes a deep breath, putting both hands on JJ's chest, and pushing him down onto the bed.

Then their lips come together again, and JJ is lost. If there's anything in the world as attractive, and irresistible, as Otabek's kisses, he doesn't care to know what it is.

He's never been kissed like this before, and it starts a fire in his heart, one that he might never be able to extinguish.


	9. Vikturio - kiss at dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a follow-up to the "public kiss" Vikturio.
> 
> Prompt from [Ashii Black](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack).

"Hey, Vitya," Yuri murmurs, skimming a fingertip over a bare shoulder. It's nice and warm in the room, even for Russia in early spring; Viktor's skin is even warmer. He mumbles something and shifts, closer to Yuri.

"Mmm," he says, almost a question, but he's still asleep. Yuri attacks him with his fingers, tracing whorls and circles and generally being a nuisance until Viktor rolls onto his back and cracks one eye open.

"It's our one year wedding anniversary," Yuri says with a smile that he knows is smug. In all the years they've been fucking, Viktor has had exactly one romantic relationship outside of Yuri. The fucking pig. Yuri is still bitter about it; when they first started sleeping together, Viktor said they couldn't tell anyone because Yuri was too young. Yuri understood that then; it did make sense. He was only fourteen at the time. Viktor was a lot older—and had a lot riding on his skating career.

But when he married the katsudon, Yuri had been shunted off to the side like he didn't matter. Now, though, things are different. He can see through the large plate glass windows the skyline, just barely visible in the predawn, as the sun begins to strike a fiery match to the night sky.

Now, Viktor has married Yuri and made it official. Yuri stops tormenting Viktor with his fingers and kisses his chest, then drags his lips up over Viktor's collarbone to his jawline.

"Tell me you love me, again," Yuri whispers. It seems important to speak softly, not to break the spell. They've spent the year almost entirely together, like newlyweds whose honeymoon never ended. The magazines and tabloids and newspapers are filled with pictures and articles about the marriage that _put a smile back on Viktor Nikiforov's face_.

"I love you, again," Viktor says quietly. He's teasing, but his face is serious; there is a yearning look on it, like he still wants Yuri—like how he _used_ to look at Yuri when no one could know about them—but isn't sure it's real, that Yuri's in the bed they _share_ , that their relationship is no secret anymore.

"Oh, Vitya," Yuri says, and climbs on top of him, straddling his hips with his knees. The morning sun is peeking into the sky; it's dawn. "Happy anniversary, darling," he says. Words tempered by age and love, Yuri doesn't feel the need to curse or rail at Viktor anymore. Well, not often anyway.

"Happy anniversary," Viktor replies, his warm hands coming to lie against the skin of Yuri's bare back, on his spine above the curve of his ass. "I can't believe this is our life now. If you hadn't forced me to make a decision…"

Yuri knows that forcing anyone to do anything isn't always a recipe for success. But he also knows that Viktor has never once regretted the kiss on national television, or the proposal that succeeded it. Pressing their chests together, Yuri claims Viktor's lips, warm and especially soft with sleep, in a kiss.

Viktor's mouth moves gently under his, and for what feels like ages, just ages, they barely touch, lips pliant but closed against each other's. Now that they're married, Yuri doesn't feel the same rush that he used to, like they had to hurry, like he only got a few minutes of Viktor's time here and there. Now, he gets almost all of it.

As the sun crests the horizon completely, Viktor opens his mouth, and lets Yuri in. Yuri takes the invitation and luxuriates in it, making Viktor his, all over again.


End file.
